Chapter 13 CARRIE
CARRIE
Iwatch Levi’s back retreat down the aisle, the way his shoulders tense and his steps grow quick. Shame burns hot in my chest. I can tell I blew it—he saw straight through me, and I never was any good at lying, not to him, not to any of them.
My hands tremble on the cart handle. For a moment I stand there, frozen by the urge to keep hiding, to let him walk away and protect whatever scraps of safety I have left. But the guilt wins out. I leave the cart, hurrying after him, my shoes barely making a sound on the waxed linoleum.
“Levi,” I call, my voice low and breathless. “Wait, please—just give me a second.”
He slows but doesn’t turn, his head bowed, like he’s afraid to look at me and find out I’m not the person he remembers. I reach him by the end of the row, nearly out of breath, and catch his arm, gentle but desperate.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, not caring that anyone might hear. “I know I sounded off. I just…I didn’t know what to say. I don’t want you to think I’m here to hurt you, or that I’d ever be part of what Jinn did.”
Levi studies me for a long, heavy second. There’s suspicion and hurt in his eyes.
“Can we just—” I start, my voice too loud in the echoing library, and I clamp my mouth shut. I gesture toward a narrow section tucked between two dusty shelves, where no one ever seems to go. “Can we talk over here? Please.”
Levi grunts, his jaw tense, but follows. I walk ahead, trying to find words, heart hammering in my chest. “I know I gave you the wrong impression,” I say over my shoulder. “I swear, I don’t know anything about Jinn. I haven’t heard from him. I just…I panicked. I didn’t want to get you in trouble—”
Before I can finish, I feel Levi’s presence right behind me, his heat closing in.
In a flash, he’s there, his hand curling around my arm as he pushes me, gentle but firm, back against the metal shelving.
The books rattle, dust drifting down. His body cages mine, solid and close, and for a split second, everything stops, just me and Levi and the thud of my heart in my throat.
“What are you up to?” he growls, his voice so low it sends a shiver through me.
He leans in, crowding me, his chest pressing into mine, hips pinning me with nowhere to go.
The scent of him, the memory of his hands on my skin, makes my knees weak.
The tension crackles, so thick it feels like I could drown in it.
“Nothing,” I say, breathless, unable to look away. My hands are trapped between us, clutching his shirt. “This is my job now. I’m just trying to help you, Levi. I want you to trust me. Please.”
His eyes darken, his gaze dropping to my mouth and then back up, searching me, testing if I’ll break. My body remembers every second of that night—his lips, his fingers, the sound he made when I pulled him closer. The ache between us is almost painful.
“I need you to believe me,” I whisper, my lips barely moving.
Levi’s hands slide down my arms, slow and searching, his fingers curling around my waist and holding me against the shelves.
The tension between us thickens, every inch of his body pressed to mine, his breath rough at my ear.
I barely have to think about what I say next; the need is too raw, too honest. “There is one thing you can do to help me,” I murmur, my voice trembling with something that’s not quite fear. “Jinn broke my heart, Levi. I’ve been so alone.”
He exhales, the sound deep and ragged, and his grip tightens just a little, his hands running along my hips, finding the shape of me like he never forgot. His touch is fire and memory, and my body aches for more.
I tip my head back, meeting his gaze. “I just need—” I start, but the words catch on my tongue, lost in the heat between us.
I don’t need to finish. He knows what I’m asking for, what I’ve been missing.
His eyes flick over my face, hunger and tenderness warring there, and for a moment, nothing else matters but the wild way I want him, and the promise in his touch.
His body is so close I can barely breathe, the wall cool at my back, Levi’s heat burning through me everywhere we touch. His hands are braced on either side of my head, and I can feel the way his chest rises and falls, the tightness in his jaw as he fights with himself.
I look up, meeting those cold blue eyes. “Are you going to kiss me or not?” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer. He just leans in and crushes his mouth to mine, swallowing my gasp. It’s rough, urgent. He tastes like coffee and danger. My hands find his shirt, tugging him closer, and his thigh pushes between my legs, forcing them apart.
He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head, holding me trapped. His mouth moves down my throat, biting just enough to make me gasp again, his breath hot against my skin. I can feel how hard he is, pressing against me, and I arch into him, shameless, desperate.
He releases my hands just long enough to yank my shirt up, his palms sliding over my bare stomach, fingers spreading wide.
My nipples pebble under my bra and he doesn’t waste time—he drags the fabric down, exposing me, mouth latching onto one tight peak, sucking until I have to bite my lip to keep quiet.
“Levi—” I gasp, but he just groans, one big hand sliding down between my thighs. He finds me wet and ready, his fingers slipping under the thin cotton of my panties. He circles my clit with his thumb, slow and firm, watching my face the whole time.
“You want this?” His voice is a growl, low and dangerous.
“Yes. Please.” I don’t care how needy I sound.
He shoves my panties aside, two fingers sliding inside me, filling me. My head falls back against the wall, eyes closing as he works me, his thumb never leaving my clit. I’m already close, my hips moving against his hand, needing more, needing him.
He bites my shoulder, then lifts me, my legs wrapping around his waist. I can feel how thick he is through his jumpsuit, his cock pressed right where I want him.
He frees himself with one hand, rough and impatient, and then he’s lining up, the blunt head pushing at my entrance, right where I’m soaked and desperate for him.
I can feel him holding back, teasing me, rubbing against my entrance but not giving me what I need.
He lifts my chin, his eyes dark and hungry. “Tell me you want it.”
“I want it. I want you.” My voice comes out needy, breathless.
He doesn’t give it to me yet. Instead, he kisses me again, slower this time, tongue sliding deep, his hands spreading my thighs wider around his waist. His lips move over mine, biting and tasting, owning me with every stroke of his mouth.
His fingers grip my ass, holding me open for him.
He kisses down my throat, biting hard, sucking marks into my skin.
My body arches into him, desperate for more.
He comes back to my mouth, kissing me until I’m dizzy, until my hips are rocking helplessly against him. He drags his tongue along my lower lip, then bites it, just hard enough to make me gasp.
I can feel him at my entrance, thick and hot and pulsing. He breaks the kiss, eyes locked on mine, and pushes in slow, stretching me wide. He groans low in his chest, his hand sliding up to cover my mouth, swallowing my cry as he fills me all the way.
He holds still, buried deep, his mouth finding mine again for another bruising kiss. I can barely think—just him, everywhere, his cock stretching me, his hands on my skin, his mouth owning mine.
He starts to move, thrusting deep and slow at first, every stroke making me whimper into his mouth. He fucks me harder, faster, the sound of skin on skin echoing between the shelves, the threat of being caught making it even hotter.
“Quiet,” he growls. “You want them to hear?”
I shake my head, but it’s almost impossible not to moan.
The pressure is perfect, every thrust a little rougher, a little deeper. The shelves rattle behind me. My fingers dig into his shoulders, desperate to hold on.
He kisses me hard, his tongue in my mouth, then pulls back, breathing ragged, eyes locked on mine. His hand stays over my lips, keeping me silent as he fucks me hard against the wall, the risk making me wetter, the tension making everything sharper.
I can’t help the sounds building in my throat. He feels it, presses down a little firmer, and fucks me faster. My hips rock up to meet him, the need for release almost painful.
When I come, it’s explosive, my body clenching around him, my scream swallowed by his palm. He keeps pounding into me, chasing his own finish, eyes dark with hunger. He pushes in deep, shudders, and I feel him spill inside me, still muffling any sound I make.
We stay like that, shaking, panting, his hand still over my mouth, his cock still inside me. When he finally lets go, he kisses me, rough and breathless, as if he needs to remind himself this was real.
“Next time, you better be quiet, or I’ll have to gag you,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, fingers still lingering at my lips.
Something about that threat makes my pulse spike. I’m still throbbing around him, the thought of him actually doing it making me even wetter. He must see it in my eyes because he gives me a crooked, knowing smirk.
Before either of us can move, the blare of alarms splits the silence. Harsh red lights flicker through the stacks. Levi’s whole body tenses. He pulls out of me, zips up in one practiced move, and yanks my panties back into place.
“Stay here,” he mutters, all business now, but his hand squeezes my thigh one last time, hard enough to promise this isn’t over.
Then he’s gone, disappearing between the shelves, leaving me breathless, sore, and still aching for him. I pull my clothes together, heart racing—not sure if it’s from the fear of being caught or just the memory of his mouth, his hand, his body pinning me against the wall.
The library’s suddenly full of shouting, footsteps pounding on concrete. I press myself back against the books, trying to disappear, trying not to grin like a girl with a filthy secret.